Évora, Portugal: Wanderings in an Old Town

We knew it would be a long day to get from Elvas to Évora. The persistent low spinning off the coast of Ireland that has been pumping wind and rain at us for the last week was due to send its next wave at 1pm (according to this app which we can't help ourselves from obsessively checking). The morning was fine, and after our quarry-gazing we even found a picnic table for lunch, which always puts a cherry on top of the best meal of the day. But as if an alarm went off high in a cloud, a brief downpour happened as we packed up our gear. It was a warning shot, and we continued until about 10 kilometers short of our destination when the clouds united and a big dark wall of water descended on us. We found a tree and huddled under it and watched cars pass by for a good 45 minutes. One woman actually stopped and offered us a ride, but we would have to leave the bikes behind. Not really an option, so we cycled in the rain to town, arriving dripping wet and cold at the grocery store. After stocking up we peddled into the old town and found ourselves a nice guesthouse.

Évora is a medieval hill town still still surrounded by 14th century walls. The streets are impossibly twisted and narrow, and the town is not too big to walk around and explore in a day. And that is just what we did, umbrella in hand. By afternoon the sun came out and we had good light for photographs.

Here are a few of our favorite images from our day of exploring.

The roof line of the most famous church in the town, Igreja Real de São Francisco

The church has lovely turrets, not unlike a soft-serve cone.

The architectural style is describe as Manueline-Gothic.

Many of the alcoves in the church were covered with Portuguese tiles, known as azulejo,

Marble!

Bright and welcoming buildings.

More marble!

An alley in any other place, but in Evora it is a street.

There are also some Roman ruins.  Here are some of the columns of the Temple of Diana.

A couple of guys just hanging out on top of the Church of Nossa Senhora da Graça.

Remnants of the aqueduct have been adapted to housing and shops within the the city walls.

We followed the aqueduct as it grew taller and taller...

...until we were outside the city walls where the aqueduct arches were just about the right width a lane of traffic.

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Borba, Portugal: Shopping for Slabs

Some things really excite us. Like ancient engineering marvels that move water. So on the day we left rain-soaked Mérida to continue our journey west to Portugal, we were treated to not one, not two, but three superb examples.

The Aqueduct of San Lázaro in Mérida, built around the first century BC to bring water to the Roman city from a reservoir to the northeast.

Los Milagros Aqueduct in Mérida

A small section of the mighty Amoreira Aqueduct in Elvas, Portugal, built in the 15th century.  It was truly massive.

We entered Portugal at the town of Elvas, and the landscape from Mérida to there is rather flat and uninspiring.  Lots of agriculture, goats, and sheep.  The persistent low spinning off the coast of Ireland that did its best to keep the wind in our face, so John and I amused ourselves by counting down every five kilometers to switch lead and draft positions.  It slowed us down enough that our entry in Portugal was late enough in the afternoon that there was little time and energy to get us and the bikes up to the fortress town.  We headed for the campground, only to find it was not yet open for the season, so it was another hotel night.  It was a very nice hotel, and reasonably priced (45 euros) like what we have found so far everywhere.  

The next morning was sunny and bright, but I could not say the same for my dear John.  Add to the list of lessons learned -- don't buy a nice prepared salad and then keep it in a warm pannier for four hours before you eat it.  It will result in enough bacteria growth to put down a strong cyclist. So an extra day at the lovely hotel with the beautiful marble staircase.

The marble staircase was our first clue that we were in a special area.  The next clue was when we rode into the town of Borba, and the sidewalks were paved with marble, the curbs were marble, the park benches were marble, and there were smooth rounded sculptures carved from marble on the street corners.

Sidewalks of mosaic granite and marble, and the classiest curbs I have ever seen.

As we left town we began to see on either side of the road manufacturers of granite and stone products, and stacks of marble blocks just left to themselves.  Most of the marble we saw was white with a pink veining, but also beautiful gray and white marble in the neighboring town of Vila Viçosa.

And a bit further down the road we were separated from the chasm of a quarry by just a slack cable.  Something even more exciting for these two geologist that aqueducts!  Little did we know that there were craters like this all around us, as seen in the photos at this link.

The quarry was humming with activity, and workers down in the pit looked like little toy soldiers.

I think I could find something for our kitchen remodel here.

Leaving Borba, the town of beautiful sidewalks.

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Mérida, Spain: It Falls Mainly in the Plain

Over the Sierra Norte de Sevilla we did ride, uphill for two very long days. This range is dry, and as we crawled up the steady grades there was not much more to look at than stately cork trees evenly spaced on the hillsides on either side of the road. Other than the occasional farmhouse, there was not much in the way of campgrounds, so we kept our eyes open for stealth camping opportunities. I was a bit worried most since impenetrable fences separated us from sneaking into the forest. But the mantra in my mind of "something will present itself" prevailed, and a most lovely campsite on a ridge in an abandoned olive orchard with an odd cork tree was our reward.

Sleeping among the olive trees.

Stork nests seem to be common, particularly at the top of church steeples.

Winding our way up through the cork forest.

Once we dropped down the north side of the range we were in gently rolling plains with olive trees instead of cork, reaching up the steepest of slopes into the horizon. We seemed to be in the heart of olive production. We filled our water bottles at one gas station in a tiny outpost of a town, and next to the potato chips and candy were gallon jugs of the stuff for sale. Soon after we crossed into the pork belt, with really big hogs standing guard outside little doghouse-like structures.

Weather moved in, and our final day of cycling into Mérida was like flying -- all we had to do was sit it the saddle as the wind pushed us. Mile after mile of vineyards and olive trees, with much activity as workers bladed the earth, trimmed the branches, and burned piles of debris. And with the wind came rain, and we checked our chilled and wet selves into a great hostal in the city from which we could explore the many Roman sites of Mérida. 

Below are a few of our favorite images from our day of exploring the city, umbrella in hand.

Puente Romano, the longest bridge from Roman times.  It is now dedicated to pedestrians and cyclists only, and this was how we entered the city from the west.

A few of the sixty arches supporting the bridge.

Only a small tour group explored the Amphitheatre with us in the morning rain.

Much of the Amphitheatre is constructed of concrete binding large cobbles.  Time has eroded what must have been smooth benches to a rough surface.

Adjacent to the Amphitheatre is the Roman Theatre, where performances are still staged today.

Smack in the center of town is the Temple of Diana.

Many artifacts are preserved and displayed at the wonderful Museo Nacional de Arte Romano.  It is four stories tall with natural light flooding the space with arches that mimic the Roman style.

Just two guys hanging out on what was described as a harness ornament.

There must have been a dozen mosaic floors on display throughout the museum.  This one was the largest.  The variety and level of preservation in which these floors were found astounded us.

And a bit of fun is your reward for making it to the end of this post!

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Sevilla, Spain: Crunchy on the Outside, Sweet in the Middle

After a day of watching the skies weep with rain from our room at the Casa Gil in El Bosque, we were back on the road the next morning in the crispness of a freshly-washed world. We continued a downward descent into the plains, and just when we thought we were in for flat country, the hill-town of Arcos de la Frontera loomed like the a snow-capped peak.

Approaching Arcos de la Frontera.  We rode (and pushed) our bikes to the top through some insanely steep roads barely wide enough for a compact car.

The view, halfway up, as we catch up breath.

We camped in a hidden spot next to a wheat field that night.  Quiet.  Just us and the quail and maybe a dog barking in the far distance.  It was flat terrain approaching Sevilla, but a headwind, warm temperatures, and a detour to buy bike tubes and a new stove made for a late day.  But Sevilla comes alive in the cooler evening hours, and we rode through the streets of the old city to the pension where we would stay for a couple of nights, with people everywhere, spilling out of the bars and seated outdoors at cafes.

We filled our day taking in the Real Alcázar de Sevilla and the Cathedral de Sevilla.  Treasures on the inside of a old and interesting city.

Evening light crossing over the Rio Guadalquivir in Sevilla

Metropol Parasol, a building whose function was not apparent to us and form is a bold contrast to the sharp features of the rest of the city.

Babies gone bad.

Courtyard of the Real Alcazar where the influence of Islamic architecture is apparent.

Exquisite detail of an archway in the Real Alcazar.

Gardens of the Real Alcazar are blooming and fragrant in all their spring glory.

Exterior of the Cathedral de Sevilla, claimed to be the world's largest church in volume.

From the cathedral's tower there are sweeping views in all directions.

The tower combined with a zoom lens offers views of another kind.

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Grazalema, Spain: Just Another White Town on a Hill

We left Rondo on a very quiet Sunday morning. After a few kilometers on a major road, we exited and commenced the climb to Grazalema. It seemed we were passed by more recreational cyclists on their ultralight bikes than autos. We were going slow enough that a few of them passed us again on their way down. One stretch was shaded by a cork forest, the trees stripped of their bark as high as a person can reach. Sweeping views that made my heart sing were around every turn. Rock climbers hung on the limestone cliffs near the base of the final ascent.

Brilliant sun reflected off the white walls in the town, but that was all over once we reached the pass. Storm clouds gathered, we bundled up in protective gear, and by the time we reached the end of a thrilling 2,000 foot descent to the town of El Bosque, our hands were cramped from braking. We were wet and chilled. We checked into the first hotel we found.

Our fourth day in Spain, our fourth day of cycling, and our fourth day of challenging uphill climbs. But the mountains call us and they have their rewards.

Another day, another uphill climb...

Looking across on our approach to Grazalema tucked in the Sierra del Panar.  Can you see the peublo blanco in the distance?

Grazalema, wonderfully white.

The cloud ceiling began to drop by the time we reached the pass named Puerto del Boyar above the town.

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Ronda, Spain: Up and Up in Andalusia

Cold nights...steep grades...brilliant blue skies...limestone massifs...wide open spaces...friendly old folks with staffs walking in the late afternoon...

bella España!

Is it possible that the first campsite could very well be the best of the whole trip?

Morning descent from El Torcal National Park

In France it was vineyards, in Spain it is olive groves.

Our route took us through the unexpected Garganta del Chorro, a narrow gorge carved through the contact between Jurassic limestone and conglomerate.

At the end of a day of seemingly perpetual uphill grades, we arrived at the picture-perfect hill town of Ronda.

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